It was only after Astaroth had toyed with him and crushed him that Flauros finally came to his senses.
He wanted to be *useful* to Lady Evangeline—not merely to profit from her favor. Someone who couldn't even handle Astaroth would never become her pillar of support. So first, he needed to kill Astaroth, that eternally irritating wretch. Right now, Flauros wasn't a worthy opponent anyway; he needed to satiate himself and regain his strength.
He had received permission in advance, before Evangeline was taken away.
"May I hunt until you return, Mistress Evangeline?"
"Yes. You must be very hungry, so you may eat as much as you like."
And Evangeline had added a condition:
"But choose your prey wisely. Hunt the weak and sick first."
The meaning was obvious.
Flauros, still immersed in the languid, gentle memory of her voice calling him *Pudding*, emerged from this reverie when static crackled in the air around him.
Dozens of hands reached toward him from all sides, each desperately striving to touch him. They twisted their shoulders, crawled across the floor, gnashed their teeth to get closer.
The boy—so beautiful he might have been mistaken for an angel—trampled the outstretched hands with his boots in disgust. However, instead of cries of pain, shrieks of *delight* emanated from the tangled limbs. They were no longer capable of rational thought. They sought to become victims themselves, offering their flesh as sustenance.
Andras, returning from visiting Evangeline and witnessing this dizzying spectacle, stuck out his tongue in surprise. One of them was a domestic tyrant; another, a rapist; the third, a madman who—though not a demon—had delighted in human flesh. All were so repulsive it made one wonder how they had been gathered together. They resembled a basket teeming with worms, so vile was the sight.
The weak and sick whom Evangeline had permitted to be eaten looked exactly like this.
"Pudding, did you bring them all here to devour? Have you lost your mind?"
He hadn't expected this picky eater, having just received permission to consume society's scum, would actually take to such low-grade food. It seemed his defeat by Astaroth had deeply wounded his pride.
"Upset about losing to Astaroth? But he's your natural enemy—there's nothing you can do about it."
"Shut up. I went to help Lady Evangeline and returned empty-handed."
"True enough. If *I* had been there, the lady wouldn't have fallen for Astaroth's cheap trick."
Flauros, as if venting his anger on Andras, kicked something round across the floor. Andras caught it—and only then realized it was a human head. *How could this Pudding throw a pedophile's head at his friend? How disgusting.*
Andras, as though touching something filthy, gripped it by the hair with two fingers and carefully set it aside. Even the smell made him sick, but Flauros devoured his meal with relish. His face, contorted with fury entirely at odds with his soft features, twisted as he declared:
"Next time I see Astaroth, I'll tear him to pieces."
"Go ahead. I'll cheer for you."
If it had come to this, it would have been better if Flauros had simply been picking cherry blossoms in the garden of the Counts of Rohanson—but apparently his pride wouldn't permit it.
"Eat faster. When you're done, I'll run some errands for you."
Jelly, munching on cherry petals, turned away so as not to see the swarming mass. Otherwise, his appetite would have vanished entirely.
---
## — The Marquis's Mansion —
Around the time Kinder Toten was returning to the Marquis's mansion, Dies—the late Marquis's younger brother—was locked in his room, pacing in frantic circles. He gnawed at his nails, reviewing everything again, regretting and fuming.
"Damn, damn, *damn!* Something's wrong! Why is he alive? He was definitely dead!"
No matter how hard he tried to comprehend what was happening, his conclusion remained the same. Believing his nephew had finally perished, he had demanded to be taken to see Ryder. The maid had suspiciously refused to open the door, so he'd fetched an axe and knocked it down. Peering inside, he'd seen the terrified maid clutching his nephew protectively.
Until that moment, Dies hadn't been entirely certain of Ryder's death. He realized it from the butler's reaction.
The butler had followed Dies through the gap. Never before had Dies seen a man so *delighted*. The light from the room illuminated only his face—his eyes sparkled, the corners of his lips lifted strangely.
"Ah, *finally*."
The butler had exhaled with pure satisfaction, and from this reaction, Dies understood: his nephew was dead.
---
"Hey! Is anyone out there? Are you out of your minds, locking up an aristocrat? Once I get out, I won't spare anyone!"
Dies screamed, pounding furiously on the door.
"I'm the rightful heir, do you understand? You think you'll get even a crumb by sucking up to your daughter-in-law? Let me out, and I'll give you three gold pieces! Just open the door!"
Of course, he only had four silver coins on him. He had no intention of handing over any gold, but the stupid, uneducated servants were easily taken in by empty promises. A whisper came from behind the door:
"Quieter, quieter, please..."
The sound of a lock being released. The servant, drenched in cold sweat, cracked the door open and held out his hand hopefully. Instead of money, Dies seized him by the throat.
"Where is Ryder?"
"Ack... ack... if you give me the gold, I'll tell you..."
"No. Speak first."
Dies didn't care whether the servant suffocated or not. The man, scratching desperately at the hand crushing his windpipe, realized he was in danger of dying and gasped out Ryder's location.
"In the... the lady's room..."
"Ah. Thank you."
Dies smiled contentedly and tossed the servant a single silver coin. By his standards, this was even considered generous.
Having heard the answer, he headed straight for Kinder's chambers. In the Toten mansion, the brightest and best room belonged to Ryder; Kinder's was across the corridor, so finding it wasn't difficult.
The servants of the Marquisate, seeing the supposedly locked young master freely wandering the hallway, held their breath in confusion. In fear, they merely awaited their mistress's return. Several servants, remembering Weather's former privileges, attempted to stop Dies—but were overpowered and shoved aside, after which no one else dared intervene.
Dies reached Kinder's room without difficulty. Apparently, they had assumed he was still secured, because they hadn't even bothered to close the door. He flung it open and stepped inside.
The brazen maid, Weather, slammed her book shut and leapt to her feet.
"How did you get here...?"
Dies grabbed his nephew's hand—the boy slumped limply in a rocking chair. Weather rushed toward him, but due to the difference in their weight, she couldn't even slow him down.
"Look! *Look here!* I was right!"
Ryder's body felt suspiciously light, as if some vital weight had been lifted from it. *Yes—he was dead!* Realizing this, Dies's triumph curdled into sudden terror. Feeling the corpse in his arms, he abruptly hurled Ryder aside. The child fell onto the bed with a dull thud, like a discarded toy.
"Young master!"
Weather let out a shrill scream, calling for Ryder.
Dies, instead of silencing her, encouraged her to cry out. *Yes, scream louder! Let the entire marquisate know their nephew is dead and prepare to serve me—Dies—the next Marquis!*
"Hm?"
However, contrary to his expectations, the first to hear the call was Melek, who had briefly vacated Ryder's body and was frolicking in the stables.
Inspecting the stables while wearing Ryder's form would have appeared strange, so he had left the boy for a short while. It seemed something had happened in the interim. Melek quickly returned to the child's body.
"What are you doing to the young master? Stop playing with the dead!"
"Uncle, what's wrong with you?"
Having barely risen from the bed, Melek met the eyes of a screaming Dies. Mrs. Kinder had apparently locked him away, so how had he escaped and found his way here?
*By the way... he saw, didn't he?*
Melek greeted him innocently, but of course it didn't help.
"W-what is this... I *definitely* saw it—he was dead...!"
Dies was at a complete loss as he watched the corpse blush, blink, breathe, change its expression, and even speak. He couldn't determine whether the boy was sleeping, awake, or something far worse.
He slapped himself across the cheek. The skin burned with pain. *This wasn't a dream.* So the corpse had truly come back to life?
"Ah... it couldn't have been that they found out so soon."
Melek stamped his feet in confusion. His movements appeared especially endearing in Ryder's small body.
"I don't like touching people."
"Oh, you're too soft. Shall I help?"
Suddenly, a voice emerged that had no business being there.
"Mr. Jelly!"
"Yes, Meringue."
Melek greeted Jelly with a flash of his eyes, then glanced at him warily. He was glad to see him, but the situation remained delicate. Jelly, perfectly understanding his thoughts, patted him on the head and handed him a jar brimming with cherry blossoms.
"This is the mistress's order. This should last you three days."
"And Mrs. Evangeline?"
"Haven't you heard? Ah—Kinder Toten probably hasn't arrived yet. The situation has grown complicated... the lady is currently in prison for a while."
"*What?!*"
"It would be easier to kill everyone, but for some reason, the lady is sitting quietly."
Melek seemed to understand this feeling.
"Probably because she doesn't want to cause harm."
"What?"
It was impossible to divine Lady Evangeline's thoughts, but at least that was what Melek believed. She had deliberately worn a straitjacket, afraid of accidentally devouring the children from the orphanage—though in reality, she could have broken those ostentatious bonds and restraints at any moment. Even in the Rohanson mansion, she had continued to wear the restraint, simply to avoid eating anyone.
Partly, it was because Mr. Pudding's eyes were so unsettling. Eyes were everywhere in that house, and the walls felt like bare muscle, making it impossible to grow accustomed. Everything felt slippery to the touch; being inside was terrifying. So Melek had taken up residence in the stables and, unwittingly, had grown attached to the horses. Now he couldn't bring himself to eat either people *or* animals.
With a food substitute available, he could finally do without the bandages.
"I suppose Mistress Evangeline thinks so too? She's so kind."
"That's right. She's kind, all right—but that's the *problem!* It's because of this kindness that we can't eat our fill! That's probably why Pudding lost so easily!"
*Meow.*
The cat appeared from nowhere and slashed Jelly across the face.
"Ah, Mr. Pudding."
"Melek. Your new body suits you very well."
"...Thank you."
For someone using another's body, this wasn't the most pleasant praise—but since he was complimented, Melek awkwardly expressed his gratitude.
He had a particularly difficult time with Pudding. Mr. Jelly, whose appearance perfectly matched his character and who treated him kindly, was easy to deal with. But Mr. Pudding was the complete opposite.
Pudding was a hypocrite. In front of Lady Evangeline, he pretended to be sweet and gentle—but behind her back, he mercilessly tormented Jelly and Melek. For him, there were only three categories of living beings: Lady Evangeline Rohanson, everything she liked, and all other trash. Melek existed somewhere on the borderline of the second category.
Meanwhile, Jelly had bound Dies with impossible speed. A life that could have been ended with a mere flick of the wrist—a simple snap of the neck. Dies, overcome with animal terror, had even wet himself.
"Have mercy... no... have mercy... *have mercy*..."
Feeling as though he were about to choke, he begged for salvation from whoever might listen. Dies sobbed uncontrollably; it was embarrassing to witness. But Jelly and Pudding didn't care. The well-fed cat even yawned in boredom.
Only Melek was concerned that Dies might actually die. Shifting from foot to foot and racking his thoughts, he turned hesitantly toward Pudding and Jelly:
"Uh... could you spare him?"